Of All These Friends And Lovers
by TheMissMod
Summary: NOT ATU. Beatles fic! After bombs forced Ava Lawson and her family out of Liverpool, their return to the city is marred by the death of family friend Mary McCartney. When Ava and Paul become friends, there follows a tale of love, loss and desperation in the face of young fame. After Brian Epstein's death, the two lose touch, not speaking for 44 years. Can they forgive each other?
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

It had been a hard few years for the city of Liverpool. After the destruction left by the bombs, it seemed that there was little hope left for community spirit.  
For the Lawson family in particular, their time in Liverpool had been bookended by tragic circumstances. In 1941, they had been driven out of the city when German bombs had turned their home to rubble. They had been residing in Ormskirk until, fifteen years later, they returned, this time to a new council estate in Speke. Mrs Lawson was good friends with local District Nurse and midwife Mary McCartney, and on the day the Lawson family settled in, Mary had nothing but bad news to share.  
As the two mothers sat and made small-talk over coffee, a revelation came to light. Mary announced rather matter-of-factly that she was suffering with cancer. She was fearful as to how her husband, Jim, and two children Paul, aged fourteen, and Mike, aged twelve, would cope after she had gone. Being a fairly headstrong and independent woman, Mary had rarely discussed the matter of her illness with her family. She thought that as a Nurse, she would be able to take the blows as they were dealt and move courageously through the trouble God had handed to her, but as she sat meekly in the front parlour of Brenda Lawson's home, she felt her hope begin to ebb away. Her life now was a succession of 'if's. If she had seen a doctor earlier, if she had been honest with Jim about her pain...perhaps things wouldn't be the way they were. Perhaps she wouldn't have to sneak off into the garden with the washing in order to sit by the flowers and weep. Perhaps she wouldn't have seen Jim cry, a sunken shadow of a man barely aware of the world around him. It was the first time she had ever seen him cry, and that night she knew it would be the last. Mary was told that the doctors could do no more for her, and so she endeavoured to continue family life as normal, even though she suspected the boys knew something wasn't right.

As Brenda hugged her friend tightly, the profound shock of the situation reduced both women to absolute tears. It was at this point that Brenda's young daughter, Ava, thudded softly down the stairs, resting her ear against the small crack in the front parlour door. Assuming all conversation had finished, she stepped into the room and her eyes grew wide. She shouldn't be encroaching on her Mother like this.

"Sorry. I didn't realise..." her voice trailed off and the two women regarded her with warmth. If Brenda could help it, Ava would not find out about the tragedy. Then again, Ava was the same age as Mary's son Paul, and so it seemed probable that, should she find out, she would be able to offer her sympathy and understanding. Of course they were all far too young to know of this kind of loss, but they were by now old enough to face the challenges that lay ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

There was a chill in the air on this particular October afternoon. All the way down Forthlin Road, houses were shrouded in darkness, their blinds pulled down in mourning.

Today, Mary McCartney was to be buried.

The Lawson household had risen early, and out of respect, the family had dressed in black, intending to visit the McCartneys once the funeral and wake had finished. Perched on the edge of her bed, Ava twirled a strand of long brown hair between her fingers and stared with deep concentration at the floor. Even though she had only known James Paul McCartney for a few weeks, she felt a deep, unshakeable sadness for him. Ava was attending Blackburne House, the sister school to The Liverpool Institute, and most afternoons she had seen Paul drag himself forlornly to the bus stop. It was a pity that neither of them could speak during school hours - they had found that they had rather a few things in common - but it soon became less and less appropriate for the two to talk. It occurred to Ava that it wouldn't be right to hassle a boy preparing to grieve, and so she often shut herself away in her bedroom, listening to records and wondering if Paul would be all right.

They took the bus to Allerton and found the road entirely devoid of cars. Occasionally someone would pop out of their house to express their deepest condolences to Jim, who stood on the doorstep, half-smiling at the kindness of his neighbours. Up close, though, he was haggard, his eyes drawn and dark.

"We're so sorry. She was a wonderful woman." Brenda said, her voice wary. Of course, he would have heard this all day.

"I know. Thank you." Jim cleared his throat and touched Brenda's hand, his mouth pressed into a hard line as he acknowledged her husband and shook his hand, thanking him in turn for coming to see him. Ava shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot behind her parents. She had never liked funerals - they made her conscious of death, and it puzzled her that anyone could joke about the loved ones they had lost.

"How are the boys?" Her Father asked, clasping his hands together in his usually business-like manner.

"They're shaken up, of course. But then Paul's the eldest, he's been quietly taking everything in. He left the house a few minutes ago. Full of it, he was, protesting about everyone speaking so fondly of his Mother when she wasn't there to hear it all. I've told him it's all right to cry, but he's stubborn. He just walked right out. Mike's been crying all day, poor thing."

"And what about yourself? Will you be able to cope on your own?"

"Oh aye, I'll get by all right. Made of strong stuff, us McCartneys, you know." His voice may have been laced with humour, but his eyes were dull."Would you like to come in?" He gestured into the tiny hallway, and without a word, Mr and Mrs Lawson stepped into the house, leaving Ava on the doorstep.

"Well," Brenda arched her eyebrows at her daughter "aren't you coming inside, love?"

"Oh, no thanks. I thought I might go and find Paul. I don't much like the thought of him being on his own somewhere right now."

"That's very kind of you, love." Jim leaned out of the doorway and smiled at her.

"You're welcome."

Ava twisted her mouth and waited until the front door of 20 Forthlin Road had shut. Then, she wandered down the road, on constant watch, finally spotting Paul nestled in the grass, strumming a guitar.

"Hi." She called out softly, and he looked up with reluctance.

"Oh, hi." He sat up and continued strumming.

"So, do you reckon you'll be in school tomorrow? Only I'll sort of miss seeing you dart up to the top deck of the bus in the morning!"

Paul scoffed, smiling at her. "Really?"

"Really."

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but I think I'll give it a miss. My Dad needs our support right now. And who knows, maybe I'll drop out and get a job. I know how my Dad's fretting about money."

Ava hopped up onto the nearby wall, and Paul soon followed, his guitar sat firmly in his lap.

"My God, are you ever going to put that thing down so we can have a proper conversation?!" Ava smacked the hollow body of the guitar and chuckled. Paul grinned at her and clutched the guitar tighter in mock offence. "You're a proper rock 'n' roller aren't you, McCartney?! If it's not a guitar I see you with, it's a radio. And don't get me started on that hair..."

"Hey!" Paul exclaimed, running his fingers through his slicked back DA haircut. "What are you, a prude?"

"No!" Ava defended herself, taking the opportunity to study him then. His dark hair, big, rounded hazel eyes and slightly full lips made her cheeks flush a little, and suddenly her hands were restless. She pulled on her thumb and nudged him. "I think it makes you look like Elvis."

"Do you?" Paul's face lit up for a second, and Ava was filled with a sense of achievement.

"Indeed. You may as well be The Rock and Roll King of Speke!"

"Well, thank you very much!" Paul put on his best Texan drawl and nudged Ava back, and for a moment they were on the verge of laughter.

"I suppose we should get back to yours, then. We don't want your Dad thinking you've gone AWOL! And anyway, it's not right for a Protestant and Catholic to be in the same place - they'd burn you for that you know!"

"They wouldn't!"

"I would though."

"Hey! I thought you were calling me Elvis a minute ago?!"

"I was. But an annoying one." Ava replied, sticking her tongue in her cheek.

"Oh sod off!" Paul launched himself at her, and they broke into a chase down the street. When they reached the door, Jim looked on, bemused.

"Everything all right?"

He ushered Paul into the house and winked at Ava in thanks, and then it was back off to the bus stop for Ava and her family.

Over the next few weeks, Ava missed the sight of Paul dashing up the steps to the top deck of the school bus. Of course, she had made friends at Blackburne House, but Paul was her main concern, given that it had been almost no time at all since he'd lost his Mother. That one little moment of distraction on the day of his Mother's funeral had proved to Ava that perhaps she could do the right thing in the face of a crisis. For days after she had accidentally walked in on her Mother's conversation with Mary McCartney, she had driven herself half mad wondering if what she'd said had made things worse. She had a habit of vomiting out words that sounded insensitive, when in actual fact she was innocently making comments. She'd always thought that people just didn't tell her anything because she was so quiet. Really that was an advantage, as it meant that she could often sit with an unassuming expression, absorbing information and learning new things about those around her without having to risk any altercations. This was how she had found out that Paul had been courting one of the girls at Blackburne House, Dorothy 'Dot' Rhone. Discovering this made her very wary of the way she should act with Paul, as she didn't want to get on the bad side of a girl she thought to be quite sweet. If she appeared to be in any way competing with Paul's girlfriend, she could get a reputation at school and the taunting would never end. So, for the sake of preventing aggravation, Ava made a point of avoiding Dot at school and only talking to Paul very briefly. It didn't seem to register as odd with him, and so they went on having these small conversations every now and then, all the while slowly learning more about each other.

By the summer of 1957, Paul had joined a band, The Quarrymen, and Ava had, by way of neighbourly introduction, met George Harrison, who lived nearby and played guitar in the group. He and Paul had become fast friends, and it soon became the case that he would be rarely seen without George and the leader of the band, a much older boy named John Lennon. As a quirk, Ava had nicknamed them The Three Musketeers, and if they ever crossed paths on the bus, John would sometimes leap at her with his arm outstretched, performing an imaginary swashbuckling jab. But it was George who seemed the keenest to talk to Ava, besides Paul. After mentioning his name at the dinner table one evening, her Mother had remarked that they had lived two minutes away from the Harrison family before the bombs hit, and that presented a sense of duty in the friendship between George and Ava. There was one awkward summer afternoon tea with the Harrisons, during which George's older brothers, Peter and Harry, had been guffawing over a comic strip in the paper and his older sister Louise had been helping her Mother with the drinks and engaging in polite conversation with Mr and Mrs Lawson. George hadn't given conversation much of a chance, dragging Ava off to show her the new guitar he was so proud of. It seemed that all the boys in Liverpool were crazy about guitars, not that Ava minded all that much - she was crazy about music herself, her bedroom walls plastered with teen magazine pull-outs of Elvis and any other rock and roll star that took her fancy. With two of her friends in a group, Ava soon cemented her place as a firm supporter of their music, and even though she had only attended a few gigs at Churches and small clubhouses, she liked the thrill of being up at the very front of the stage with other admirers and girlfriends of the groups that played. It made her feel somewhat important, because as she kept hearing from Paul, it would bode well for their new group to appear to have a few die-hard fans. It was through all of this that her absolute fondness for these boys made itself known to her. Even when they were illegally guzzling beer and behaving like goons, she knew that they were an almost inseparable unit. It didn't occur to her to mind that she would sometimes have to act as a human leaning post for a drunken George or Paul. The most important thing was the music, and the thrills it brought them. That was something that resonated far deeper within them than their parents had realised. Music was the thing that brought Paul out of his grievous trance. George spent his school days doodling pictures of guitars in his textbooks and working on his Carl Perkins impression. John would bring his guitar to Art College and flunk off, singing songs with Paul and George or some of his friends from Quarry Bank. And for Ava, the music was the soundtrack to her life - the only motivation for her to get out of her seat and talk to people.

Music was the one thing they could all rely on in times of need - the lyrics were the solutions to all their problems - all the songs of love, life and rebellion spoke to the urge inside these young people to see the world and do more than settle for a nine-to-five job, a house in the suburbs and a reliable family car. The music allowed them to dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Over that Summer, a few very important things happened. The Quarrymen were getting more gigs - they auditioned for local talent shows, played for various club managers and had finally shaken off the Church fetes, cucumber sandwiches and kindly old ladies in thick sweaters bringing them pots of lukewarm tea. After their third failed audition for a local talent show (lost to a woman playing the spoons!), they resolved to take matters into their own hands and start self-promotion. The first step was the booking of a recording studio, in which they made an acetate record on the cheap, of their newest song 'In Spite Of All The Danger'. It was then up to parents, girlfriends, friends and of course the group themselves to pass the record from house to house, convincing as many people as they could that The Quarrymen were a group worth listening to.

With the end of their school life drawing ever closer, the boys' dream of living as musicians was becoming increasingly tangible. They had such plans! John had even said that if it came to it, they'd be 'bloody good buskers for the rest of our lives!'

But the determination within each of them knocked any thought of making a pittance on the streets. They were going to work as hard as they could to craft their sound. They were going to work hard to gain local fans and become well-known in Liverpool, because once they'd conquered Liverpool, they'd be ready to conquer the world.

By now, the group had a strong bond. Even the girlfriends were practically inseparable! But Ava still felt like she was watching things from the sidelines - even though admittedly she had brought that feeling upon herself. Over that Summer, she had begun to realise that she had feelings for Paul, and what was even more confusing was the thought that maybe she felt the same way about George, too. Perhaps it was the fact that she felt so at ease in their company - she certainly didn't feel too comfortable with John, he was too tall and often menacing to be approached by her, even though she suspected that he couldn't help looking that way without his glasses - whatever the reason, the looming challenge of discovering who she really liked was enough to make her feel sick on a regular basis. She resolved that, since Paul had a girlfriend, her feelings mustn't be anything to do with Paul, and that seemed to make the problem go away for just a little while. It only came back whenever she saw Paul and Dot together, and she felt an overwhelming urge to throw something at them for being so happy together. It seemed as though every girl she knew was courting, and the pressure to join them was almost too much for Ava - why was it so important to have a boyfriend? What did that word even mean? After all, kissing and petting weren't exactly things you'd do with a friend! The whole matter confused her.

So that left The George Harrison Problem. George was one and a half years younger than Ava, and despite the fact that their parents had been friends and they'd been almost-neighbours before the war, there were a few things that set them apart. For instance, while George liked Carl Perkins, Ava preferred Elvis. George played guitar and Ava played piano (although she was dying to learn a few guitar chords). George came from a reasonably large family and Ava was an only child. But still, it felt as though she was looking for a reason to avoid him. He'd had one or two girlfriends, and Ava suspected it wouldn't be long until he found a third one. Musicians got a lot of that sort of attention - you only had to watch the televised Elvis performances to see that. Plus, George wasn't exactly unattractive - with his thick chestnut brown hair, prominent cheekbones and slightly crooked fangs, he was the kind of boy she'd love to be held by on a cold evening. But was he more than that to her? For the most part, she had considered George to be more like a brother, but he was so kind to her that she often had to wonder whether he liked her too. That was the big difference - George was the boy next door, and Paul was the kind of boy you'd see in pictures. And although Ava always aimed high, she'd always been too afraid to approach boys like Paul, which is where the lines began to blur - she seemed to get along well with Paul, but of course he was off limits, and she was far too scared to say anything in fear of losing him as a friend. If she told George how she felt about him, things might be a little easier - he was very laid-back and didn't much care if girls liked him or not. He took it all in his stride and always put his music first.

"You'll just have to do it," said Cynthia Powell, John's girlfriend, shrugging resolutely.

"What, tell George?" Ava sunk in her seat a little "I don't know about that. I don't even know if I like him, or if I think I like him."

"And that's exactly why you should do it! If it comes easy to you, then you know you were just inventing those feelings to get over Paul. But if it's hard then you're doing the right thing. Be brave, it would suit you."

"I don't know, Cyn. What if I get made fun of for it?"

"By who? George is one of the nicest people you know, or so you've told me! And if John says anything horrible you just ignore him - it's what I do!"

The two girls giggled and then it dawned on Ava that she would just have to act cautiously and be brave, as Cynthia had told her to be.

It was a grey Saturday afternoon when Ava and George were to meet. She had telephoned to ask him to meet her on Allerton golf course, as her Father was going there with a few friends, and she figured that the place was big enough for them to slope off somewhere quiet and not be found.

George, dressed smartly in a light blue button-down and his grey school pants, waited patiently on a grass verge. When Ava arrived, George stood, scuffing the toes of his brown shoes on a hard lump of earth as he struggled to regain his balance. Ava chuckled, delighted that something had broken her nerves.

"Hello," George's voice was soft and unsure. He seemed to be expecting something bad, as his face was twisted in concern. "What's wrong with you, then?"

"Nothing's wrong, silly!" Ava half-smiled and tucked her yellow dress underneath her as she sat down on the grass. "I just wanted to talk to you, that's all."

"Oh, talk away then!"

"All right. George, what would you say if..." she stopped, her mind suddenly racing, desperately convinced it would all go horribly wrong "...actually, it doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?" George's eyes searched hers.

"No."

"Oh. So what d'you wanna talk about instead, then?" He lay back on his haunches and picked a few blades of grass, rolling them in between his fingers.

"I don't know really. My Dad's over there somewhere playing golf. I suppose he thinks something funny of me inviting you here."

"Why would he think that?"

"Well, he's very protective. He doesn't want me to get hurt, you know. The usual rubbish. It's silly really."

"You know I wouldn't hurt you," George sat up then, tossing the clump of earth he'd been messing with behind his back "you're like a sister to me, Ava."

"And you're like my brother!" She exclaimed, suddenly noticing the black marks the soil had left under George's fingernails. "Good Lord, you'll have to wash your hands, else your Mother will think you've got a job as a gardner!"

"I don't think she'd mind - she'd love me to help around the house a lot more! You're right, though. I could go blind if I rub my eyes now!"

The two of them stumbled to their feet and scurried along the golf course to the doors of the members' club, where they were met by a tall gentleman in a smart suit, peering out across the way at the men.

George tapped on the glass panel and looked up hopefully at the man.

"Scuse me mister, can we use the bathroom please?"

For some reason, Ava wanted to laugh. Maybe it was the way George was squinting, his mouth in a crooked gape. He looked almost comical, with that scrunched expression, his scuffed shoes and dirty hands.

The door opened and they were led to the bathroom, which turned out to be mostly comprised of sinks steeped in dark green marble. A feeling of inferiority washed over them as they realised that they must have looked like tearaways, wandering into the place. Then again it wasn't as if Mr Lawson earned that much money - he only came to the golf course about twice a year, when his wage packet was thick enough to allow a bit of indulgence. With his next wage packet came to promise of a holiday, and the possibilities excited Ava, even though she suspected it wouldn't be a jet-set, glamorous location.

A sudden splash of cold water on her cheek made her jump. George looked at her with a proud smirk.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"It would be a penny wasted." Said Ava, splashing him back, wetting the collar of his shirt.

After cleaning the remaining soil from his fingers, George set to knocking into Ava playfully, pushing her just a little bit harder each time. She grasped his shirt and swung him round and they almost fell about laughing. They could never really hurt each other of course, they would be mortified if either one should end up in pain. George flung his arm around Ava's shoulder and they walked back out into the afternoon breeze. On their way back across the green, Ava spotted her Father in the distance and, out of fear, George's arm shot back down by his side. When they were out of range, they sat down again and began talking about music. After that, George told Ava the latest tale of terrible brotherly torture, in which a game of Soldiers had gone horribly wrong and Peter had delighted in almost hacking out Harry's left eye with a bamboo cane. Then, as it got a little later and they grew a little more tired, they stood and hugged goodbye. George's gangly arms wrapped around her waist and her head rested on his shoulder. His warmth was comforting, and she wanted to stay hugging him forever. They looked at each other, both smiling, and then George's forehead was resting against hers. His breath warmed her cool cheeks and his eyelashes tickled her skin. She tensed up as his face came closer, and all of a sudden she burst out laughing.

"Brothers and sisters don't do this!"

"I know, but we aren't though, are we? Not really." He smiled against her mouth and kissed her gently. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She buried her face in the crook of his neck and they hugged again. George took Ava's hand and her palm tensed until George swung their hands back and forth and it all seemed rather silly.

"Will you walk me home?"

"What about your Dad?"

"Well I don't suppose he'll mind. We're just friends, aren't we?"

"I don't know," George's eyes grew softer "are we?"

He kissed her again and this time it was different. They grew very aware of how silent the place was and now their hands felt stiff. They walked home without speaking another word to each other, travelling a good few steps behind Mr Lawson and with a good few centimetres of air between them.


	4. Chapter 4

What Happens In Liverpool...

August 1960.

Ava had applied for a place at Liverpool College Of Art and, after receiving her letter of conformation, she set to making all the necessary preparations.

The Beatles were due to play a series of long shows in Hamburg. With their wild hair and leather jackets, they were, so their manager Alan Williams had told them, just what Hamburg was after.

The whole business with Ava and George had soon blown over. They had both decided that there wasn't really any 'business' to begin with, and so carried on in their amicable, sibling-like way. On occasion, Ava would go round to George's house and attempt to learn a few new chords on the Zenith guitar she had saved up to buy. She wanted something to take with her to Art School, something to give her that extra edge and put her in good stead for making friends. They were all bound to be the types who dressed solemnly in black, the pulpy bulge of Kerouac in their pockets as the milled around, smoking long Marlborough cigarettes with languid indifference. At least, that was the impression Ava had gathered from the dribs and drabs of people she had seen hanging around the Art School gates. She suspected these types would be in all the bars and clubs in Hamburg, too - John always went on and on, ranting about the so-called 'Exis' in their black polo-necks. Of course, there was an air of danger to Hamburg, too, but none of them had thought it any more dangerous than the streets of Liverpool at night - once you've seen one port city, you've seen them all...

Ava had agreed to start work in Woolworth's, earning five shillings a day. George was training to be an electrician, should the whole music palaver die off after Hamburg. Paul had quit his job at Massey and Coggins, winding coils, and was set to work on the lorries in lieu with the dockers once they returned from their stint. He didn't think he'd need to apply for such a job, but did so at his Father's insistence. Besides, if the group did well in Hamburg and got booked for extra shows when they got home, the job on the lorries would bring in extra money. It was essentially a win-win, once he looked past the dreariness of it all.

The boys would spend all night listening to records and retaining the riffs, and in the day they would gather to practice. Music was all they talked about all day long, and it drove Jim McCartney mad - he'd been expecting his son to earn a good wage as an English teacher, and when he found out that Paul turned down the offer of a scholarship at one of Liverpool's most prestigious Teacher training colleges, he'd damn near blown his top!

'It's that guitar,' he said 'it's taking over your life! I'm telling you now, son, the phase will pass. Music isn't forever, trust me.' He harrumphed and looked sceptically at Paul. In a sense he was right - Jim had toured various dance halls in the 1920s with Jim Mac's Jazz Band, pounding away night after night on the piano and giving the people what they wanted. He played the trumpet, too, and when his teeth gave out, he took to encouraging the boys to play an instrument. He hadn't accounted for talent blossoming, he'd expected it to be a consistent hobby. Although Jim McCartney's time in the music industry was somewhat short-lived, he'd seen enough to know how troublesome things could be, and the family was scraping by as it was.

'But Dad,' Paul protested 'you don't get it! I love being in this group, it's the only thing I'm really good at. Plus, we'd be earning the equivalent of fifteen pounds a week in Hamburg. You can't say no to that, surely?!'

Jim's brow creased. 'No, lad. I can't. Just make sure you take good care of yourself, eh? Write home every now and then, just so I know you're all right.'

'Don't worry, I will!' Paul grinned and ran up to his room, gathering a few of his things together. That evening, he phoned round the group and told them that he'd got permission to go to Hamburg.

The trip was a big step up on the performing ladder for The Beatles, and although it wasn't Sunday Night At The London Palladium, it was a fairly decent start. Nine hour shows, fifteen pounds a week. Each. It was starting to come together, whatever 'it' was.


End file.
